Photographic Memories
by Sweet Lu
Summary: Deeks receives an old photo in the mail and his world is turned upside down as long-buried memories are recalled and threaten to overwhelm him. The team struggles to help him. Dark theme.


**Photographic Memories**

His hand trembled as he stared down at the old photograph. It was slightly faded and scratched and he wondered who had sent it to him and why. An underlying sorrow filled his heart as suppressed memories suddenly tumbled into his mind as he looked at the image of his mom and dad as a young couple. A young boy with wild hair stood slightly hidden behind his father. He was suddenly dragged back to times long forgotten and repressed and he felt isolated in his present surroundings and disconnected from his current life. Sadness tugged at him as his mind floated somewhere between the past and the present as he struggled to reconcile the smiling man in the photograph with the father he had come to fear. Photographs never reveal the truth of the lives they capture, only the false pretense of the moment.

He shivered as a shadow fell across the small memento of his past and he quickly shielded it from view. He wasn't ready to share what some people would think of as a happy time and he didn't want to talk about the people in the photo either; the ghosts that haunted him in the twilight before sleep. It was a private hell only he inhabited and tried to keep safely hidden behind his blithe demeanor.

"Deeks!" Sam said again in a louder voice. "Where's that featherweight brain of yours? I've called your name four times." His voice held a hint of exasperation and his eyes glared at the suddenly melancholy cop.

"Sorry, Sam. What can I do for you?" His voice was quiet and downbeat and Sam stared at him more closely as he realized there must be something bothering him. His face held no warmth and there was a distant look in his eyes.

"We're all going out for dinner. You in?" Sam asked, softening his tone.

"No, thanks," Deeks rose from his chair and grabbed his jacket, putting something in the pocket as he headed for the door without a backward glance or an explanation.

"It's Friday night, Deeks," Callen said with surprise.

"Do you have a date or something?" Kensi joked. She was also puzzled at his behavior and started to get up.

Deeks paused and turned back to offer a fleeting smile. "Something," he replied and then walked quickly out of the bullpen. The three agents were mystified by his abrupt departure.

"What was that about?" Callen wondered and looked at Kensi for an explanation.

"Don't look at me." She held up her hands in frustration. "I have no idea." She thought back over the day and remembered how quiet he had been, but they were all doing paperwork, so they'd had no long conversations. She thought she would call him later and see what was going on as the three of them headed out for dinner. She tried not to worry but he didn't seem to want company so she decided to give him space to deal with whatever was bugging him.

...

Deeks was reluctant to look at the photo again when he took it out of his pocket and laid it on the dining table. But he couldn't look away and stood staring at it for a few minutes before getting a beer from the fridge. He slowly drank the whole thing as unwanted feelings began to crowd in on him. He quickly grabbed another beer, drinking half of it as he tried to drown the memories and knowing it wouldn't work, it never had. Suddenly he threw the bottle into the sink and tried to choke down his anger as the shattered brown glass and foam splattered across the kitchen. As he stood with his hands on his hips, he again felt a disconnect from the present and he hated it. How could one small picture upend his carefully constructed life?

He took a deep breath and walked out on the balcony and stared out at the passing scene and tried to calm down. Again he wondered who had sent him the photo and he started to let his mind reach back into his past. He felt resistance grow at the effort and he knew his mind was trying to protect him from the pain that resided there. Then he remembered the envelope the picture had come in and he walked quickly back inside and picked up the small trashcan in the kitchen. He carefully went through it looking for the envelope, finally finding it close to the bottom under all the junk mail he had tossed late last night. There was a return address he hadn't noticed before, but no name. He grabbed his jacket and the photo and headed out. His stomach was in knots as he got in the car and tossed his jacket and the photograph on the passenger seat. He suddenly felt as like he was going to be sick. He got out and hoped the cool night air would help, but it didn't and he vomited the beer onto the asphalt.

He knew that address.

Chills racked his body as a dark terror awakened and crawled back into his mind from where he had buried it so long ago. Then he was running. Running and gasping and crying as he tried to escape those terrifying memories that address had released. Now he knew who had taken the photo and he wanted to be as far away from that house and from that memory as he could get. So he kept running hard until he was exhausted and realized he was almost to the ocean. He slowed down to catch his breath and let the stitch of pain in his side ease up.

The sound of the pounding waves calmed him and he walked straight for them, needing their rhythm to steady his rapidly beating heart. He walked into the surf and let the cold, crashing waves beat against him, welcoming their power and the cleansing they always brought him. He pushed out further and felt himself lifted and tumbled under and he did not fight it. He gave in to the power of the sea and he let himself be taken so he wouldn't have to think about the past and about the terror that house and that photo held for him. The dark waters shrouded him and drew him down into their depths and his mind found oblivion from the painful memories.

...

Kensi was laughing at a story Callen was telling when her phone buzzed. She asked him to wait so she could hear the ending and answered, her smile disappearing as her face took on a look of shock. Callen and Sam leaned in as they saw a look of panic fill her eyes. She didn't say anything to the caller, just nodded as she ended the call and stood up suddenly, her voice trembling as she told them what had happened.

"That was Hetty. Some teenagers just pulled Deeks out of the ocean. He's on his way to the hospital."

Kensi turned and headed out of the restaurant as Callen threw money on the table and followed her. He exchanged confused looks with Sam as they all jumped in his car.

"Why was he surfing this late?" Sam asked.

"The cop who called Hetty said he was fully clothed," Kensi replied quietly.

They were silent at the implication and no one spoke as Sam drove through the dark streets.

...

They found Hetty waiting for them just outside the ER. Standing silently, they listened to her report.

"The police say he tried to kill himself." She was solemn as she spoke and seemed inordinately sad. "I had LAPD send me the officer's notes from the scene. Three teenagers saw him walk into the surf, but he apparently just stood and let the waves wash over him for a while. Then he started to move further out and they started yelling at him as he was pulled under. They said he made no attempt to swim or fight the undertow. He simply let the waves take him. The three of them managed to reach him and pulled him up on the beach. One started CPR and they called 9-1-1. If they hadn't been there, he would have drowned."

She looked up into the stunned faces of her agents. Kensi turned and ran into the ER. Sam and Callen didn't speak, they just followed her, unable to comprehend why this had happened. Callen felt the guilt almost immediately. He hadn't paid attention to what was going on with Deeks. None of them had and he wasn't sure why.

"It's not your fault G," Sam said as he watched his partner. Sam knew he would take on the guilt, but they all deserved to shoulder some of that. But Sam felt anger at Deeks as well. He was part of a team now and he had to learn to share burdens, but then Sam realized they all kept secrets and hid parts of their lives from each other. What Deeks was hiding had almost taken him down.

They came up behind Kensi as she stood watching the doctors work on Deeks. His wet hair clung to his face and his body was pale and slightly blue. The doctors had him on oxygen and were trying to get his body temperature back to normal so they began wrapping him in warming blankets. Suddenly Deeks pushed away the blankets and reached up to yank off the oxygen mask and then tried to sit up. The doctors struggled to keep him on the table and he began to fight them. Sam moved quickly into the room, gently shoving the doctors aside and grabbing Deeks by the arms. He stared into his panic-stricken blue eyes and pushed him down and held him there.

"Deeks! Stop it! Lie still, you hear me?" Sam's anger was clear on his face and Deeks stopped fighting and finally lay still, slowly closing his eyes and softly sobbing. Sam released him and his face softened as he saw the torment Deeks was in. Sam stepped back as he began to cough and the doctors immediately got the oxygen mask back on and covered him in blankets once again.

One of the doctors followed Sam back to the group and thanked him for his help. "He's going to be okay, but I'd like to keep him overnight and have a psych evaluation done in the morning." Then he returned to Deeks' side.

"What the hell happened to make him want to kill himself?" Sam asked and Callen could see he was shaken by the thought.

"Do you think he really wants to die?" Kensi whispered. Callen put his arm around her as the tears she'd been holding back spilled over. "Why didn't he talk to me?"

"Stay with him Kens," Callen said as he and Sam headed toward the exit. "We're going to his place and see if we can find out what set him off."

...

When Callen and Sam arrived at Deeks' apartment, they found his car still in his parking space with the door open. Sam saw his jacket in the passenger seat and when he picked it up, a small photograph fluttered to the ground.

"Look at this G," They looked at it together as Callen shined his flashlight beam down on the ghostly image. "Is that Deeks?"

"It must be him and his parents." Callen felt a tiny pang of jealousy as he looked at the photo. He had always longed for a picture like that; a photo that documented the connection between a boy and his family. But somehow he knew that this photograph had been the catalyst that had pushed Deeks to the brink of self-destruction.

They went through his apartment, but other than a crumpled envelope on the dining room table and the shattered beer bottle in the sink, they found nothing, other than the family photo, to indicate what had set him off. Callen stared down at the photograph as they got ready to leave and there was something haunting about it. The image appeared to show a normal family, but photographs can be deceptive; mere shadows of reality on paper and hiding untold stories.

...

The nightmare rocked him and he jerked into consciousness. Sweat broke out all over his body and he began to struggle with the blankets that held him down. That feeling of restraint just added to the panic he was feeling as remnants of the terrifying dream that had woken him tugged at his memory. Fleeting images raced across his mind. Hundreds of faces that seemed familiar, but had no names. His image from the photograph floated above all the others and wouldn't leave his mind and he felt panic rising again in his throat. He finally threw off the blankets and climbed from the hospital bed into the darkness of the cool room. As his eyes adjusted to the light he made his way to the closet and then dressed quickly and slipped out.

He spoke to no one and no one spoke to him as he walked slowly out of the hospital. He was surprised no one had been sitting with him in his hospital room but maybe he shouldn't be. He wouldn't have known what to say anyway and he wasn't ready to share the terror he was starting to remember. That was his to bear alone. He shook his head as he recalled the look of anger on Sam's face in the ER and he knew he would never be able to explain to him or the others why he had let the waves take him. He had just wanted to be free of the fear and the dark memories he thought he had buried long ago. But that photograph had unlocked his childhood terror and now he had to deal with it. He hoped he could.

The cab dropped him at his apartment and when he walked in he knew someone had been there. It had to have been Sam and Callen and it gave him an odd feeling. The photograph was on the table next to the envelope, so he knew they had seen it and his jaw clinched in anger. Why did they think they had the right to violate his private space and snoop through his things? He couldn't imagine letting himself into their homes and rifling through their stuff trying to discover their secrets. His irrational anger grew, as he pulled inward, shutting out the reasonable explanation for their action. He was used to dealing with his demons alone and this was no different, he told himself. His feeling of brotherhood with them that had so recently been growing was forgotten as he was drawn back in time by the photograph on the table. He was alone then and he was alone now, and that was not going to change no matter how hard he tried to pretend otherwise.

He slammed his hand down on the table and glanced at the envelope as it jumped and a feeling of dread dragged at his mind. To dispel it, he moved into the bedroom and slowly changed clothes, feeling a slight chill as he realized he had put on the clothes he always wore when he was undercover as Max Gentry. That scared him and he quickly shed the jacket and replaced it with another. Although he knew he could use some of Max Gentry's toughness and violence to deal with what he had to face, carrying that baggage was more than he could handle right now.

He checked his weapon and took a deep breath as he stared down at the photo of his family once again. He had just turned seven when it was taken. It wasn't the first time he had met the man taking the picture and he felt himself shudder at the reason he was standing behind his father. As if he would protect him, he laughed coldly to himself. Why the man had sent him the photo after all these years played with his mind and he wondered how the man knew where to find him. He shivered at the thought and his skin crawled as he looked quickly around as if he was somewhere in the room. He knew he had to end it now and he choked down the fear that hovered at the edge of his mind. Picking up the photograph and the envelope, he walked out of the apartment and down the stairs to his car.

...

The house was at the end of the street. A weed choked vacant lot beyond it cascaded down a slight hill overlooking the freeway. The stucco house was from the thirties and was slightly separated from the others on the dead end street. The detached garage next to the vacant lot looked the same as he remembered it, with double doors that faced another empty lot. It was isolated from the other houses and looked as if it hadn't been taken care of very well. The yard he remembered was neat and tidy, with a well trimmed lawn bordered by shrubs and flowers. Now the lawn was brown and dry and the shrubbery was gone. The house didn't look lived in, but the envelope came from this address so someone must be living here.

He sat staring at it for the longest time, trying to summon the courage to face what he had buried so deep he hadn't remembered it until he'd opened that envelope and stared down on that photograph. His memories were fresh now and he felt his hand tremble as he reached for the door handle. He took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. The morning was cool as he walked purposely toward the house. He paused in front of the walkway, but knew it was the garage he had to go to. His feet seemed reluctant to go where he wanted them to and he stopped to catch his breath as he started up the driveway to the garage. Then he heard the music and fear flashed through him so suddenly that he gasped as a dark memory closed down over his mind. He'd forgotten the music. It had been loud then too, haunting and beautiful and an integral part of his terrifying memories. He knew it was from an opera now, but when he was seven it had sounded as if it came from another world.

The crescendo made him jump as he stood staring at the garage, unable to move. Then the aria began and he felt warm tears on his cheeks as a deep sadness filled him and he began to shake. I can't face this alone, he thought. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't have been here then either, but I was, he thought as he roughly wiped away his tears. I have to end this, now.

Suddenly the side door to the garage opened and a young man close to his age came out carrying a cardboard box and humming to the music. He stopped when he saw Deeks, and smiled.

"Can I help you?" he called out, coming toward him. His face was open and friendly as he approached and Deeks felt himself relax a little.

"Are you the new owner?" Deeks swallowed hard as he tried to get his voice to work.

"I grew up here. This was my father's house." The young man set the cardboard box down and put his hand out as he introduced himself. "I'm Paul Jarvis." Deeks shook his hand and nodded, not giving his name and amazed that the man he remembered had a son.

"I received a photograph in the mail from this address," Deeks said softly.

"Oh, which one are you?" Paul Jarvis asked with a curious look.

"What do you mean?" Deeks stepped back and took a deep breath.

"I've been going through my father's things, and sending some of his photos to the people he shot pictures of," he replied. "He had a list of people and addresses in the garage with attached photos of each and I thought he might have been trying to send them out before he had his stroke. So I sent them for him."

"I'm Marty Deeks."

"Nice to meet you, Marty," Paul Jarvis smiled. "Come on in the garage. There might be other pictures of you in there. He used it as his photography studio." He turned and motioned for Deeks to follow him.

"When did your father die?" Deeks asked as he slowly entered the garage. He felt his heart constrict and could feel it pounding in his ears.

"He had a stroke a month ago," Jarvis said as he moved towards the back wall.

Deeks didn't know why he came inside, but he wanted to face his fear, so he stepped into the dim space and looked around. There was a truck with a camper shell parked along the far wall. But he was drawn to the back wall that Paul Jarvis now faced. It was covered with hundreds of photographs of all sizes. Spotlights hanging from the ceiling illuminated the mass of pictures pinned one over another in a haphazard pattern. Some were class pictures and some were individual portraits, all of young boys. As Deeks edged closer to the wall a chill ran down his spine. He wasn't the only one. He had known that deep down, but now he knew without a doubt that he hadn't been the only one to suffer.

"I think the ones that are circled in red with the addresses pasted over the bottom were the ones he liked the most," Paul said brightly. "Those are ones I mailed photos to. See? There you are with the red circle around your class picture."

Deeks froze and stared at his picture from second grade. It had been one of his mother's favorites and when it was taken was the first time he had met Paul's father, Leonard Jarvis, although at the time he didn't know his name. He was just a photographer who came to shoot class pictures at his school.

He had been very kind during that encounter and Marty Brandel had responded to that kindness, having never received much from his father. Jarvis had gently smoothed his hair and asked about the bruise on his jaw. When Marty had looked down and gotten quiet at the attention, Jarvis had pulled out some make-up and covered the bruise, showing Marty the change in a mirror. He spoke softly to him and eventually got him to smile, which is why his mother had liked the picture so much. His kindness was what made Marty accept a ride from Leonard Jarvis later that week. And it was the kindness that made him follow Leonard Jarvis into this garage and discover just how false that kindness had been.

"I don't have addresses for everyone circled," Paul said as he stepped back. "Do you know who this boy is? I think he might have been in your class."

Deeks stepped forward and leaned in to look more closely at the boy. He looked familiar, but then everyone in school pictures looks like someone you should know. But he didn't know this boy and when he turned back toward Paul Jarvis to tell him that, Paul stuck him hard across the head with a large wrench and he collapsed at the base of the wall. Blood streamed down the side of his face and Paul Jarvis knelt down over him smiling.

"Welcome back, Marty," he said.

...

"Callen, he's gone!" Kensi was angry with herself and really pissed at Deeks. She had come back from getting coffee and a donut, only to find his bed empty and his clothes missing.

"Kensi, head over to his apartment, we'll meet you there," Callen anxiously told her. She could hear Sam in the background yelling something about killing Deeks when he found him. They were all frustrated with him and furious that he hadn't confided in them. She knew how worried Sam was after he told her about the panic he'd seen in Deeks' eyes and heard him sob in torment when he'd forced him back down on the table in the ER.

Kensi just had a feeling of dread about the whole thing. Deeks had only recently begun to share private bits of his early life with her, so this event had really surprised her, because he had said nothing. She was angry at herself for not realizing how quiet he had been all day and not questioning him closely about it. He always bugged her to tell him if something was wrong, but none of them did that too much with each other and especially not with Deeks. They seemed to let him be until something critical happened and then they rallied around him to pick up the pieces, and she didn't know why. Now she was afraid for him as she raced through the waking city to rally to his side once again. She just hoped he was where they thought he was.

She knew as soon as she saw his empty parking space that they were too late. He was gone and she had no idea where to look for him. Her heart was beating hard against her chest as Callen and Sam joined her.

"I should have stayed with him," she berated herself, slamming her open hand on the top of her car.

"Kens, you were there all night," Callen took her arm and turned her toward him. "We'll find him."

He could feel the stress in her body and knew they all had to get their emotions under control if they hoped to help him with whatever was going on. He led the way upstairs to Deeks' door and Kensi let them inside.

"Where do we start looking?" Sam asked as they entered Deeks' apartment.

"Remember that envelope we found with the photo?" Callen headed toward the dining room, only to stop short when he saw Deeks had taken them. "Crap!"

"What photo?" Kensi asked.

"Somebody sent him a picture of him with his parents," Callen answered as he closed his eyes and tried to remember the address. "I think something about that photograph sent him into a tailspin and that address is the only lead we have." he held up his hand for quiet as he pictured the envelope in his mind.

"It's in Reseda," Callen said as he headed for the door.

"That's where he grew up," Kensi rushed out after Callen with a little hope now that they had someplace to look.

They were at the address within the hour and Sam felt himself shudder as they saw Deeks' car parked across the street from the shabby little house.

"I don't have a good feeling about this, G," Sam checked his weapon before getting out of the car, and the others did the same. They trusted Sam's instincts and Kensi shivered as they left the car. As much as she wanted to run toward the house shouting Deeks' name, she felt a sense of caution building in herself and she could see that Callen was on high alert. They split up as they approached the front of the house and Sam covered the back as Kensi and Callen knocked on the front door. They got no response. The house seemed empty and almost derelict.

"Callen! The garage. Now!" Sam yelled.

When they reached him, the look he had on his face spooked the two agents and Kensi felt her heart pounding as they entered the empty garage. There was old camera equipment and lights scattered around and work benches full of tools and ropes. Sam had switched on the lights and they all stared at the mass of photographs covering the back wall. As they got closer, they could see that some of the photos were circled in red marker with addresses next to them.

"They're all children," Sam said softly.

"Oh my God! That's Deeks," Kensi put her hand out to touch the second grade picture of her partner. As she did one of the other photos fluttered to the ground and Callen stooped to pick it up.

"There's blood here," he said quietly. Then he looked up to see fear in Kensi's eyes and a look of regret cross Sam's face. "There's not much though, so we can assume whose ever blood this is, is still alive."

"Let's check the house," Sam became stoic as he led the way.

With guns drawn, they entered through the back door and quickly spread out, checking all the rooms until they each shouted "clear", then met in the dining room in the center of the house. The table was covered with binders, each with a name written on the outside. Callen picked up one and saw it was filled with photographs of the individual. Some were class pictures and some had family shots. Kensi lifted one and they heard a sharp intake of breath as she read "Marty Brandel" on the cover.

"It's a binder on Deeks." She slowly flipped through the first few pages, seeing him as a kindergartner and as a first-grader and then the photo they saw circled in red on the wall in the garage. When Kensi flipped to the next page she dropped the binder suddenly and gagged. The three hardened agents stared down in disbelief at a photo of a very young Marty Deeks standing bare-chested with his feet and wrists tied to an iron ring in the floor. He had a noose around his neck that was strung over a beam in the ceiling and they could see welts crisscrossing his small chest. He had a look of absolute terror on his face. Callen was barely holding himself together as he turned to the next page. It was a photo showing Deeks from the back. He had been badly beaten and the noose was taut around his neck.

They stopped there, unable to continue and Sam pulled Kensi into his arms as tears streamed down her face. He looked at Callen and he knew the photos had hit him hard. None of them could have imagined this. Sam was so angry he couldn't speak and Kensi was barely able to stand.

"How could someone do that to a little boy?" She shook uncontrollably as Sam held her.

They had all seen horrible things done to people in the course of their careers, but to see one of their own victimized as a young child shook them to their core. Now they knew what Deeks had been trying to deal with and the horror that had driven him to try and drown those terrifying memories in the ocean, his place of refuge.

"Sam, call in and let Hetty know," Callen's voice was low and hard and his eyes were intense. "We need to find him. Whoever did this is still out there and probably has him."

Kensi wiped her eyes as they all realized they needed to work this case as hard as they knew how and as fast as possible.

"I'll have Eric run the names attached to those other photos circled in red," Kensi said with determination. She wasn't going to give up her partner to some maniac and she would do whatever it took to bring the man she loved safely back to her where he belonged. The urge to comfort him was almost overwhelming as she headed back to the garage.

They busied themselves gathering evidence while Eric and Nell ran traces on the other young boys named on the wall and looked for the name of the owner of the house and any other properties he owned. When they heard Eric's voice on their earwigs they weren't prepared for the information he gave them.

"We found something on four of the boys," Eric said softly. "Callen, they're all dead."

"So he killed them after he tortured them," Callen said. "Why did he leave Deeks alive?"

"No, Callen. They were all killed within the last month," Eric told them.

Callen looked quickly at Sam and both knew why that photograph had been sent to Deeks. Someone was cleaning up after themselves.

"The owner of the house is listed as Leonard Jarvis," Nell reported. "He was a professional photographer who worked mostly in various school districts in the area, shooting class pictures and such."

"Is he still alive, Nell?" Callen asked. "Because this house doesn't look like it's been lived in for awhile."

"There's no record of his death," Nell answered. "And he owns no other properties that I can find."

"G, if he's not dead and he's not living here, then where is he?" Sam wondered.

"Maybe he was married," Kensi reasoned. "Maybe he had children."

"Find out Nell," Callen instructed. "We've put in a call to the LAPD. As soon as they get here, we'll be on our way back."

"Mr. Callen, bring that binder on Mr. Deeks with you," Hetty ordered. "I don't anyone at LAPD getting their hands on it."

"Understood, Hetty."

...

The haunting music soared loudly through his mind and woke him from his nightmare. Only he realized, as he slowly opened his eyes, that it wasn't a nightmare, it had all been real. It was real now, as he struggled to free himself. His heart began to pound and his breathing starting coming in gasps as he recognized how he was bound. The only difference was that this time he was on his knees, which were tied to a heavy grate in the floor. His wrists were bound to the grate so that his arms were angled slightly away from his body and the noose around his neck was stretched tight over a beam in the ceiling so his body couldn't rest. He was stripped to the waist like he had been as a seven year old and he knew what was coming and he knew struggling was in vain. Leonard Jarvis had enjoyed when he struggled. It had made him laugh. Then he heard someone humming behind him and he stiffened.

"Seem familiar, Marty?" Paul Jarvis asked in a friendly voice right behind his head. He felt the noose tighten as Paul pulled down steadily on the rope and Deeks struggled to breathe. Just as he was about to black out, the rope loosened and he gasped for air.

"Someone wants to see you, Marty," Paul said softly in his ear. "He's been looking forward to it. Remember my Dad, Marty?" Then he heard a familiar laugh and he closed his eyes as his heart pounded in his chest.

A motorized wheelchair pulled up in front of him and he stared into the placid face of Leonard Jarvis. The left side of his face drooped and his left arm lay limp in his lap, but he reached out with his good hand and slowly stroked Deeks' chest. Deeks jerked away and felt the noose tighten again.

"Get away from me you filthy bastard!" he screamed as loud as he could. Jarvis slapped him again and again as he screamed at him and he felt warm blood on his lips. He kept screaming at the old man, calling him every filthy name he could think of until his voice was choked off by a sudden jerk on the noose. He passed out, but Paul was quick to revive him.

"We don't want you to die just yet, Marty," Paul said cheerfully. "You're going to be the star of the show. My dad took great photos of you as a boy and I'm going to make them part of a video of your last day on this earth. I'm kinda kickin' the family business into the twenty-first century, you might say."

Leonard Jarvis laughed and drove his wheelchair up against Deeks' body. They were now face to face, and Deeks couldn't bear to look at him so he closed his eyes as he'd done all those years ago. He felt hot tears streaming down his cheeks as the old man touched him and he felt seven years old again. He knew what came next and he knew he could take the physical punishment now, but the cold icy fear he'd felt as a child still filled his mind and he began to shake violently as he felt Jarvis's hand continue to caress him.

Paul suddenly pulled his father away from Deeks and wheeled him off to the side.

"It's my turn, old man," It was the first time Deeks had heard him sound angry. "Now, Marty let's talk video. I've got state of the art video equipment running here and great strobe lighting, and I've been practicing on the others like you. His favorites, you might say. They didn't want to do what I wanted and some of the last sequences weren't as good as I'd hoped, but you're going to do better for me, aren't you Marty?"

Paul was very upbeat for a complete psychopath, Deeks thought as he tried to regain his composure.

"Remember this, Marty?" Paul came up behind him then and Deeks cried out as the hard leather strap struck his shoulder.

"Did you watch what he did to all those kids?" Deeks asked as the blows rained down on his back. "Did you help him, you sick shit?" His voice grew louder every time Paul hit him. When he stopped, Deeks slumped against the noose and slowly the world went black.

...

It was late in the day when the three agents returned to the Mission. Everyone could see how dejected and angry they were and most people steered clear of them. Callen immediately went to talk to Hetty and he took the binder with him. The agents hadn't looked too deeply into the binder, but he knew Hetty would have to and he didn't envy her. Callen shivered as he handed it to her and it didn't go unnoticed.

"How bad, Mr. Callen?" she asked as she sat down and put the binder on her desk.

He shook his head and stared at the floor for a few minutes to collect his thoughts and she did not rush him. She knew as much as anyone about his own childhood and some of the rough treatment he had endured, and she knew he must have a lot of empathy for Deeks now, knowing what he had suffered.

"I haven't looked at it all, Hetty, but what I saw was horrific," He spoke so quietly that she had to lean forward to hear him. "I don't know how he survived it without major psychological problems. All the joking around he does with us and the laid back attitude he seems to have..." Callen's voice trailed off as he tried to reconcile what he had seen in that binder with the man he had come to know.

"How does he do it, Hetty?" Callen whispered. "How can he act so lighthearted with all those dark memories buried inside?"

"I expect the humor is how he copes with it, Mr. Callen. It's how he keeps the darkness at bay." Hetty answered.

She watched him carefully as he returned to the bullpen. She was worried about the whole team, now. Their reactions to what had happened to Deeks had affected them deeply and she wasn't sure how they would ultimately react. She slowly opened the binder and began to go through it and when she was done she understood how hard this was going to be on all of them if they didn't find Deeks and bring him home safe. Then she went into her private bathroom and locked the door.

...

Eric and Nell practically ran into the bullpen and quickly put a photo up on the screen.

"This is Leonard Jarvis's son, Paul." Nell said quickly. "We think his father has been staying with him. We have a home address and also a business address. He's a videographer in the valley."

"We also discovered that Leonard, the father, had a stroke last month," Eric informed them. "According to hospital records, he's disabled and confined to a wheelchair."

"So he couldn't be the one who took Deeks," Sam said.

"Like father, like son?" Callen raised his eyebrows as the unthinkable thought settled in his mind.

"Except the son uses video to record his victims," Kensi's eyes flashed at the thought and she stood up and stared intently at the photo on the screen. "What are we waiting for?"

"Home or studio?" Sam asked.

"He's a videographer and probably a serial killer who grew up looking at his father's photos," Callen said as he grabbed his coat. "We'll check the studio and send a tactical squad to his house"

The intensity of the agents crackled through the bullpen as they headed out to find Deeks. They all kept the fear that he was already dead, tucked away in a corner of their minds. They would bring him home one way or the other.

"I'd hate to be Paul Jarvis when those three find him," Eric said softly as they left.

...

"Time to wake up, Marty," Paul Jarvis said cheerily as he pulled Deeks head off the floor. He yanked him back on his knees and pulled the noose taut so that Deeks' body was stretched as far as it could go without him passing out.

Deeks woke to the sound of opera music so loud he couldn't think. His body ached in dull pain from the beating he took and he struggled to breathe as the noose tightened. His mind wandered and dark images from the past kept him from concentrating and he felt he was living in limbo between his childhood and the present. He felt a deep sadness that his life would end in the company of psychopaths and he tried to pull his thoughts away from the evil around him to focus on the people he cared about. Thinking of Kensi brought quick tears and he longed for her so much he moaned out loud.

"Good memories, Marty?" Paul whispered next to his ear.

Deeks tried to draw away from him but he was bound too tightly and tensed as Paul put his hands on his shoulders. He pulled Deeks back against his body and started to whisper his plans in his ear. His voice was mesmerizing and blended seamlessly with the music so completely that it was hypnotic and Deeks felt himself giving in as Paul slowly stroked his arms. He felt his mind drift and a feeling of calm settled over him and he thought he should fight but the desire to do so was fleeting. He began to relax and the noose tighten as he slowly leaned back against Paul's body and the lack of oxygen caused his mind to float in a fog inhabited only by the music and Paul's soothing voice.

"The video will be beautiful, Marty," Paul whispered softly as Deeks went limp. He let him hang just long enough and then loosened the noose and brought him back to semi-consciousness.

"Do you want to meet your co-star?" Paul whispered and felt Deeks nod as if in a trance, which he was.

Paul had studied hypnosis and prided himself on being better than his father at seducing his victims. His father only did it to children, but he was proud that he was able to make grown men do exactly as he wanted. And Marty Deeks would be his star, whether he wanted to be or not. Paul would make him do what had been done to him and then Paul would film Marty killing his young victim and then he would snap him out of his trance and show him what he had done and record his reaction. This was going to be his masterpiece. He hoped Marty was a screamer. He loved it when they screamed at what they had done. He didn't know how long he would keep Marty alive, but he could decide that later, after he watched him lose his mind.

Deeks felt the noose release slightly and he gasped for breath and his mind began to clear. The music was softer now and he looked for Paul as he tried to shake the cobwebs from his head. Had he surrendered part of his mind to that psycho? He tried to remember what Paul had been whispering to him but the words hung just out of reach. He shook his head and pulled as hard as he could on the ropes that bound his wrists to the grate in the floor. The pain became intense and he could feel blood trickle down his hands. But the pain began to sharpen his mind and the fog he had been in started to dissipate.

Then he saw Paul coming toward him, shoving a frightened young boy ahead of him. A sense of dread seized Deeks heart as he looked into the blue eyes of a kid that looked just like him at that age. He could feel the boy's fear radiating off of him in waves. Deeks knew that fear and what it did to you and he wanted to cry out to him to run, but he couldn't. Again he shook his head to clear his mind of the hidden words that seemed to have stopped his normal reaction to what was happening and he wondered if he had been drugged. He had to fight whatever it was that was keeping him silent and he pulled mightily on his restraints so the pain would cut through the muddle in his head. Blood was flowing freely from his wrists now and he felt the ropes loosen and that gave him hope.

"Marty, this is Ryan, your co-star," Paul looked so proud it made Deeks want to puke. Then he noticed the knife in Paul's hand and he felt a chill run through his body.

"Give Marty a hug, Ryan," Paul urged the boy, pushing him toward Deeks. But the boy was frozen in fear and Deeks saw anger in Paul's eyes.

"I said hug him, you pile of shit!" Paul gripped the boy around the neck and began to choke him as he pushed him forward.

Deeks' mind flashed with images of his father as he heard that familiar degrading phrase Paul used to disparage the boy and he felt a dark rage building within him. He saw the raw fear in the boy's blue eyes as Paul continued to choke him and the rage he felt at the torture he was witnessing broke something in him. Whatever barriers Paul had created in his mind were shattered by the black fury that exploded within him. He pulled his right hand free from the bindings and a plan formed in his mind.

"It's okay, Ryan," Deeks said softly to the little boy. "I'm the same as you. You can trust me. Give me a hug, buddy."

Deeks needed the boy close so he could tell him what he needed him to do, so he used all of his persuasive powers to convince the frightened child to hug him just like Paul wanted. And it worked. Ryan wiped the tears from his eyes and stepped up and hugged Deeks tightly around the neck.

"Ryan, when I tell you to run, I want you to run like the wind," Deeks whispered in the boy's ear so only he could hear. "Just like playing football, don't let him catch you." He pulled back and looked at the small boy and he could see the look of determination and trust on his face. God, I hope this works, he thought, because if anything happens to this kid because of me, I will never forgive myself.

"Paul, what do you want me to do now?" Deeks asked calmly in a monotone. He had to make Paul believe he was under his spell and submissive.

Paul smiled brightly and stepped toward Deeks and the boy. As he bent down over the child, Deeks looked into the boy's eyes and saw him watching him intently.

"Run, Ryan, run," Deeks yelled and when the boy took off, Deeks slammed his bloody fist into Paul's face, knocking him to the floor and causing him to drop the knife. Deeks strained to reach the knife as Paul struggled to his feet and tried to grab the boy as he ran by, but Ryan dodged out of his way and raced for the front door and it made Deeks laugh.

Paul Jarvis was livid as the boy ran through the front door and out into the night. Paul stood and turned toward Deeks who had the knife and was swiftly cutting through the ropes that bound him to the grate in the floor. He was free except for the noose around his neck and as he reached up to slice through the rope, Paul quickly closed the space between them and kicked Deeks solidly in the groin and smiled as he heard him scream and drop the knife. Paul looked at his father and the old man quickly grabbed the rope and tied it to his motorized wheelchair and backed up quickly, bringing the noose around Deeks' neck taut and then lifting him off his feet. Deeks struggled and fought as the noose tightened around his neck as he was pulled higher, and he felt a great sadness settle over him as his mind began to dim and the world went dark. His arms dropped to his sides and he hung limply in the air.

...

Callen, Sam and Kensi were almost to the studio door when it slammed open and a blond seven-year-old charged through, running at top speed. Kensi grabbed him as he tried to run by, but he wiggled free and she could see the terror in his eyes. She looked at the tactical squad and saw that one of them had corralled him when she heard Deeks scream. The three agents were through the door in an instant and charged through the office into the studio space. They all stopped in horror as they saw Deeks hanging limply from the end of a rope.

Callen was in a blind rage as he saw Leonard Jarvis pulling him higher and he fire one bullet directly into the old man's head. Then he quickly pulled his knife and sliced through the rope as Sam wrapped his arms around Deeks' body and lifted him, trying to loosen the noose around his neck. Callen was quickly by his side and tore the noose off of him and together they lowered him to the floor.

Kensi had her gun in the face of Paul Jarvis and he put his hands up in protest as he backed up until he was against the wall next to the video camera. She wanted to shoot him so bad she could taste it, but first she had to make sure Deeks was alive.

"Sam! Is he okay?" She shouted.

"He's not breathing, Kens!" Sam began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

"Come on, Marty," Callen said softly as his eyes reddened and a deep sorrow filled him. They were too late, he thought. The guilt he'd felt earlier crushed down on him and he knew they had let Deeks down and he wasn't sure he could live with that.

Suddenly Deeks gasped and began to cough as his hands went to his throat. He rolled onto his side and retched as he drew in gulps of much needed air. Sam rubbed his back and then pulled him up so he could lean against him as he fought to breathe.

"He's okay, Kens!" Callen shouted as he wiped his eyes.

Deeks was stunned to be alive and more stunned when Callen pulled him into a hug.

"They had a little boy here," Deeks croaked out of his sore throat. "Did you see him?"

"He was running so fast we couldn't catch him, but the tac squad has him." Callen said with relief as he continued to stare at Deeks.

"Where's Jarvis?" Deeks eyes darkened as he spoke that name.

"Callen killed the old man," Sam told him. "And Kensi has the son, Paul, backed up against a wall behind you."

Deeks strained to stand and with the two agents' help he managed to get to his feet. But his knees buckled and they had to hold him up as he tried to regain some strength in his knees and legs. When he was confident he could walk on his own, he looked at Callen and his gaze was intense.

"Give me your gun, Callen." His face was a mask of cold rage and his voice was low and hard.

Callen hesitated, but then he pulled his weapon and handed it to Deeks. He saw a surprised look spread across Sam's face, but then it changed to one of resolute understanding. They would stand by their teammate no matter what he decided to do and they wouldn't begrudge him the need for revenge, not after what they saw in that garage and in that binder and what had been done to him tonight.

Deeks held the gun by his side as he slowly limped toward the back wall where Paul Jarvis was being guarded by Kensi. Sam and Callen followed him, not sure what he was going to do, but knowing they would back him up no matter what his decision.

Deeks stopped next to Kensi and closed his eyes as she embraced him. His head dropped to her shoulder and tears stung his eyes as a feeling of relief flooded through his body.

"You okay?" she asked softly as she stroked his cheek. Her eyes swam with tears as she held him and she didn't want to ever let him go.

"I will be, Kens," he replied and then looked into her eyes and held her gaze for a long time.

"Well isn't that cute," Paul Jarvis said snidely as he put his hands on his hips and stared at them.

Deeks broke away from Kensi so suddenly she stumbled back against Sam. He turned toward Paul and took a step toward him as he slowly raised his gun and pointed at the man. Paul could see the smoldering rage on his face and he raised his hands in defense.

"Please, Marty, you can't do this. I'm unarmed," Paul's voice was the same mesmerizing voice he used to hypnotize Deeks earlier and he was convinced he could take control of Deeks like he had done before. "You would be sorry if you committed cold blooded murder, Marty." He smiled as he watched Deeks closely and saw his eyes blink slowly and the gun waver ever so slightly. He continued to talk and Deeks listened and Paul's smile became bigger as he used his excellent skills once again.

"SHUT UP!" Deeks screamed so loud all three agents were startled. "Just shut your filthy mouth you psycho. I'm sick of your voice and I'm sick of your smiling face."

Deeks fired and the bullet slammed into the wall right next to Paul's head and he cringed and jumped away. Then Deeks fired again and the bullet exploded into the wall on the other side of Paul's head. His eyes got huge as he stared at the venomous look of rage on Deeks' face and he froze as Deeks took a step closer to him.

"Scared yet, Paul?" Deeks voice was quiet and soft and a small smile was on his face. But his eyes were dark and wild and Paul stared into them and felt a deep fear growing in his chest.

"Please help me," Paul pleaded with the three agents, but he got no response. The look on their faces was cold and distant and without sympathy.

Deeks fired twice and the bullets shattered the wall between Paul's legs and he screamed.

"Can you feel the fear, Paul?" Deeks asked slowly. "Can you feel your insides turning to jelly because you don't know where the next bullet is going? How does it feel, Paul, to be so scared you can't think straight?"

Deeks took another step toward Paul and the man slipped down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. His held his hands up as a sign of surrender and it made Deeks laugh. Then he knelt down in front of Paul and shoved the barrel of the gun in his mouth and Paul began to cry.

"This is for every kid you and your father terrorized and abused, you sick pile of shit," Deeks shoved the gun further into Paul's mouth until he heard him gag. Then he let go of the grip and left the gun in his mouth. "You should probably pull the trigger yourself, Paul, but I bet you're too much of a coward to do that aren't you?"

Deeks stood up, turned around and walked away. Kensi followed him, putting her arm around his waist as they walked outside together. When he got to Sam's car he collapsed against it and tears streaked down his face. With his back against the car, he stared at the rundown studio in the middle of a nondescript strip center and all the pent up emotions of the past two days roared through his body. He covered his face with his bloody hands and tried to stop shaking as Kensi stood next to him and stroked his arm. Then he felt someone tap his leg and he flinched and opened his eyes to look down into the solemn blue eyes of Ryan.

"What's your name?" the kid asked.

"Marty Deeks," he answered. "Are you okay?"

The boy nodded and Deeks knelt down in front of him. He could see tears standing in the boy's eyes and he hugged him.

"You were great in there, Ryan, and very brave." Deeks put his hands on the boy's shoulders and looked into his eyes. "That was the best broken-field running I've ever seen, and I'm proud of you." The boy smiled then and so did Marty Deeks.

...


End file.
